


Eastern Dreams

by RiceandTon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adoption, America being America (Hetalia), Arthur Is Kind Of A Dick But I Understand, Brothers, Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Child Abandonment, England (Country), Gay, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, I Tried, Italian Mafia, M/M, Married Couple, One Big Happy Family, Peter Kirkland Is A Good Kid, Poor, Same-Sex Marriage, Single Parents, Sorry Not Sorry, That's Rough Kid, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, city, sorry peter, wholesome moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiceandTon/pseuds/RiceandTon
Summary: This story takes place with Peter Kirkland, well, if that last name was something to hold onto. One story led to the next, with abandonment to illegal actions...what will happen to Peter?
Relationships: England/Sealand (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), North Italy/South Italy (Hetalia)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this is pretty sad but it has fluff and there will be a happy ending! Please enjoy because I really did try my best especially since I fell out of the fandom a year ago and I am slowly being reeled back in smh.

The walls are an oozing black, only a light gold piercing its flesh from the crack of Peter's door. Kneeled down next to the mattress Peter resided on, is a brit by the name of Arthur. Arthur lay a hand on Peter's thigh, a saddened and pained look tinting his eye yet was cloaked and hidden in the dark. The brit sighed and laid a sweet, love filled final kiss to Peters forehead.

"Goodnight dad."  
  
"Goodnight Peter. I love you."

"I love you too, dad. See you tomorrow."  
  
He never answered back. Arthur teared up and stood, glancing a final goodbye to the oblivious boy, soon tearing away his hardened glance and shutting the door behind him. Only the moons light glowing through the makeshift curtains Peter had set up with Arthur, it being an old blanket, and floating dust was left behind almost as though that was the only life in this sad little room. Peter and Arthur lived alone, Arthur not having a wife or husband and struggling with money. Peter knew this, but decided to never mention any of it, and Arthur to never bring Peter into it. It was a silent agreement between the two members of this small family.  
  
Arthur wrote a note with a pen he had found on the counter, and the back of a picture Peter had drew of the two. It was a little wrinkled, but hadn't been ruined in any way, until now. With a stifled sob and a sigh, the door to the front of their small, lonely apartment was hushed shut, leaving behind the small click of the handle being released, a paining silence, and a soon to be hurt unknowing Peter.  
  
_Darkness tickled at the edges of his vision. Hot fingers pressed into the sides of his throat and a sweaty palm squished the pliable elastic of his windpipe closed. "  
  
Who are you?" Peter tried, but only spit and a squeak came out. "  
  
Don't speak, make this quick." Peter glanced around the room in a sad attempt to find something, anything to reach out to. His vision shifted in and out of focus, and everything was closing in on him. Peter groaned and barely, just barely caught the shadowed outline of a lamp. He reached for it, trembling fingers reaching out to the metal and grazing its sides before a final and tight grasp was made. Peter swung it around and hit the weight holding Peter down on the head. Peter rolled away from the hissing voice and stumbled over to the nearest door. His head throbbed in a pleading break, his legs limping into an escape, and his heart on the verge of an attack. He slid into a bathroom, the door slamming and locking just fast enough that whoever was on the other side's attempt at the knob amounted only to a violent, frustrated rattle. Peter pulled a cell phone he had yet to have in the waking life from his pocket and struggled with his trembling hand that didn't seem to be his own. He watched the foreign limb clumsily betraying him, missing the buttons and nearly losing the phone completely. It seemed an irrational and panicked thing, incapable and helpless even as his brain screamed at him to focus. "  
  
Open the door, Peter!" it shook the doorknob. "What do you think you're going to do? I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Peter heard a small voice from the phone he hadn't yet put to his ear. The screen showed a connection to 911. Peter heard the insistent operator still chiming from the other end of the line, reaching for someone, refusing to disconnect. Then, it went quiet. Whatever it was stopped yelling. Peter stood still, paralyzed in the silence. It was almost worse. Peter's eyes rebounded around the drab bathroom, to the chipped paint, the floor laminate curling up at the corners. There was no way to barricade the door, no way to escape, and nothing to defend himself.  
  
A massive thud shook the door. Peter jumped back to the corner by the sink. Another crash and the door shivered. It was breaking in. "  
  
You don't want to make me do this, Peter." a voice shook from the other side. "  
  
Leave me alone!" The door shook from another blow, the wood cracking and surrendering in its weight. "  
  
Hello?" the phone whispered out. Another crunch and splintering wood. They were going to be too late._  
  
Peter sat up in shock, his heart raced, blood pulsated and tingled his fingertips. His throat reaching, gasping for a breath that seemed so far from gaining. His eyes darted around the room, splintering wood and his own sobbing rung through his head with no mercy to his throbbing brain.  
  
"Calm yourself, Peter," he told himself "Breath." he followed his fathers words every time he awoke in a panic. But, something seemed off. Arthur isn't here yet like he should be. Peter waited, and waited but no shuffling or sigh could be heard. Peter cautiously made his way to the door, opening it and peeking into the dark and lonely hallway.  
  
"Dad?" his weak voice called out. His legs told him not to go, and stood shivering in the silence and adrenaline from his dream, and his heart told him he wouldn't like what came next. Yet, as a child, he trusted his head. _Go forward._  
  
And forward he went and what he found wasn't what he wanted to find. He wanted to find a warm hug to warm him in the dim and cold apartment. He wanted to find a bag of Mcdonald's waiting for him on the counter with a another disappointed look in his dads eye that he failed to cook a real breakfast. He wanted to wish his father goodbye and hug him when he came home like he was the only thing left for him in the world. Well, he was the only thing left for him in this world. But what he instead found broke his tiny heart into pieces Peter didn't think would fit back together and fogged his aching head.  
  
  
  
_Dear my beloved son, Peter,_  
  
_I'm sorry to have left you with no breakfast or hug. And I'm especially sorry to have not came in and hugged you if you had an upsetting dream. Currently you may be thinking I may have picked up another shift at my job, which thankfully and sorrowfully I didn't. Your second option is I probably went for another walk, which I didn't. I left, Peter. You have all rights to hate me but please don't hate yourself. I failed as a father. And I failed even moreso as a father by leaving you alone. I gave you a thirty dollar bill that's lying next to this letter. That should last you a week, until then, don't go outside. There's a lot of bad people. Remember that one time I told you that I fell and my wallet slipped out from my pocket resulting in my change and money to go missing? That was a lie. I got mugged. Getting mugged means you get assaulted for things you have on you, if you didn't know. That day I was so down, and I hurt but you were always at the door and greeted me with a hug that I took for granted. You were my everything. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I failed as a father. I'm sorry that you're going through this alone. But once you get evicted (you'll find out what that means soon enough) you will be going to a better place. Not heaven, if that's what you're thinking. But a place where there's other children. You'll get to go to school and a nice family will pick you up. I'm not telling you where I am now, because I don't want you to go out looking for me, but I'll find you one day, I promise. Sorry that isn't a pinky promise, just pretend that is. I love you, my dearest. I love you._  
  
_-Arthur Kirkland_  
  
  
  
Peter re-read the paper over and over again. And each time he read, the stronger the urges were to scream. They welled up inside him in a tight ball, slowly rising. Questions raced laps in his head until they were blurred like everything around him. And all he could do now was listen to his throbbing lungs and shattered heart. He screamed.


	2. What Now?

It had been nearly three days since Arthur had left. The money that Arthur left on the counter for Peter was untouched and collecting dust. Peter hadn't even thought about using it, but instead spent his time by the door, too sick and mentally unstable to eat. He had trouble sleeping as well, with no one to kiss him goodnight and also frequent nightmares squeezing his little body awake. It felt like he was alone, like he didn't belong or was unloved no matter how many times images of Arthur telling Peter "I love you." were played in his memory. Peter loved to draw, but that too seemed so distant in his memory he simply found no joy in it along with other things like building forts to play in. He just sat by the door, losing hope day by day while he waited for Arthur to walk through the door and tell him that it was some sick joke. Peter didn't know what to think nor believe anymore.  
  


Peter kept hold of a diary to pass time during the day. He didn't actually have stacks of paper or books to write in, so he wrote on loose Newspapers Arthur had brought home. His writings varied from poems, to stories, to what he saw or felt daily (which always seemed repetitive.) He even kept track with how many papers with adult words slipped through the mail slot on the paint chipped door. They contained large red letters, or names addressed to Arthur. Some of them said that water would stop running to their apartment, which it did. And so did electricity.  
  


One day while Peter was sitting in his own filth, he decided it was time to go outside. So he shakily wrapped his small fingers around the painfully cold knob and opened the front door, which left a booming creaking sound startling the already frightened boy. He silently made his way down the hall, his feet leaving tiny patters as he ran down the hall and steps leading to the entrance of the building. Peter took his first step out of the complex, which felt alien since it had been nearly three years since he last left the cramped rooms of his home. Peter looked up, the sky was a depressing gray from poisonous pollution. Annoying chatter and angry honking rang throughout the streets, muffling conversations.  
  


A man on the corner of the street was bellowing out song lyrics with a guitar, a hat next to him reading "Tips" and a cardboard sign with a sloppily written "God bless unto death" on it. Peter passed him without making eye contact. The small nation fixated his gaze on whatever he could, whether that be a small child with their parent or alleyways with saddened or drugged up eyes following him. Peter looked down to his bare and cold feet, much different from the considerably taller and fully clothed people around him. It went on like this for a while, people slowly became scarce and the night was cooling fast. Peter went from alleyway to alleyway, digging through rubbish and garbage in plead to find something useful to write on or maybe decent clothing that happened to be tossed by an ungrateful family. Much to his disappointment, he found nothing. Peter began walking back home from the abandoned streets, his whole body shivering from the aching cold. His pale and smooth skin reflected in the streetlights, unmarred by the scratches and scraped he got from kneeling and tripping. His legs led him back to the safety of his dirtied, dust invaded apartment where he go back to sit in his spot by the door and close his eyes into a dreamless sleep.  
  


The next morning he decided to use the money. He stuffed it into his pocket and went back outside where he was shoved around and ignored in the busying streets. He led himself to the closest Mcdonalds where he ordered himself a small meal and ignored the whispers and stares at his poor state. He scarfed down his warm meal and left without another word, recoiling back into his apartment and lying back onto the floor. He looked down and noticed another paper and read it. He didn't fully grasp what was happening until a few hours later when someone seemed to be unlocking the door. Peters eyes widened before he shakily sped away and slipped in his favorite hiding spot -- the top corner of his closet. An attic was accessible in his closet. Just crawl up there, push the top open and crawl inside. He sat there for what had felt like hours, which really was most likely only a few minutes. He heard talking, his shaky and sweaty palm tightened into a fist around the money. His heart drummed in his ears and he heard muffled voices.  
  


"You think anyone lives here anymore?"  
  


"I don't know it seems pretty empty."  
  


Shuffling.  
  


"Hey look at these papers."  
  


"Oh sweet what do they say?"  
  


Silence. Only the sound of Peters light breathing and ringing silence was present.  
  


"Looks like some kid was abandoned and kept this as a diary. That's really sad."  
  


"You think they're still here?"  
  


"Probably not. We can set out a search team though."  
  


Peters heart dropped. He can't be searched for. What if he gets in trouble for not paying the people in the letters? What if they take him away and lock him up and he gets bullied and some evil man takes his money while he screams in a closet and no superhero comes to save him? Okay that bit was his imagination but still, anything could happen.  
  


Peter hid in that closet for a few days. He watched as his bed was hauled away, as police went in and out of the room, searching in the closet but never noticing the outlined square in the roof. Peters stomach lurched every time he heard someone look in the closet, attempting to throw anything up as if there was something there. Peter thinned, his once stubby fingers were thinner, his ribs protruded and his skin paled with each passing day. Peter thought about giving up and just showing himself, hoping someone would share a little bit of food but he always jeopardized himself and stayed hidden. The boy lay on the floor, his eyes closed and he listened to hushed voices, until he heard new ones he didn't recognize. Two males, it seemed. One only mumbled, and one did all the talking. Did they secretly find him and come to take him away? He listened closely, slightly moving the attic's entrance just enough for his ears to pick up some conversation.  
  


"Here's the key to the door, everything is all set up for you." a voice he recognized.  
  


"Thank you sincerely." the foreign voice said, heavily accented.  
  


"Take care!"  
  


"You too!"  
  


And then the door closed. He heard a sigh.  
  


"We'll f'nd some'ere better soon, I promise." another voice said, majorly deeper and too, heavily accented.  
  


"I know, Ber. I know. We can do it."  
  


"Mm."  
  


It went quiet again for several minutes. Peter assumed they left so he creeped down the hole and peeked his head out from the closet, spotting the two males that were in a long hug. His eyes met with one of theirs, both widened. One yelped and Peter jolted, quickly recoiling back into his hiding place.  
  


"Tino?" the voice became just as panicked.  
  


"I thought I just saw someone! There- i-in the closet."  
  


"Y'sure it wasn't y'r imagination?"  
  


"Ber I swear, just-" he groaned. "I'll see."  
  


He heard footsteps approaching the closet, followed by a new light penetrating through the crack of the attics entrance.   
  


"There's nothing- no, wait... I see a small cutout. Like...a square?"  
  


"Might be n' attic."  
  


"Let me see."  
  


Peter backed up as far as he could into the corner of the attic. Ignoring the spiderwebs and dust puffing up into his face. He clasped a hand over his nose to muffle any noise, in hoped the wont see his shrunken and corpse-like appearance. He heard the movement of the door and then a head peek out with a phone, its glaring light blinding Peter.  
  


"Hei?"  
  


Silence.  
  


"Babe I told you 'ere's nothin' there."  
  


"Be quiet, please. I think I saw something."  
  


Peters eyes jolted open and he looked around for any escape he could have missed before. He crawled away to another corner, yet it was slow. His body ached, his mouth felt like sandpaper. The blonde hoisted himself up and sat at the middle of the room.  
  


"Don't be scared."  
  


That's exactly what Peter was. No, he was terrified beyond belief. Just on the brink of passing out and hoping he wakes up and it was all a dream.  
  


"How long have you been up here?" his voice was gentle. Soothing, comforting. It reminded him of Arthur, and oh how he longed to hug the stranger in hopes that felt like Arthur too.  
  


"I can get you some water if you need any."  
  


That did it. His body longed for any source of liquid, dirty or not. Everything hurt. He slowly moved his body toward the figure, his arms on the edge of giving out and making Peter seem helpless, which he was. But he didn't want to show that, for the sake of his disappearing ego.  
  


"Oh, hi. Hi." his eyes widened. He knew it was how he looked, and trust him did he feel extremely self conscious. The stranger was probably thinking something along the lines of "God this kid stinks, he looks like shit and I hope he doesn't get attached to me."  
  


"Berwald I found the kid."  
  


"Bring em' down 'ere."  
  


The blonde gently took Peter's helpless body, struggling with the painfully dry-like screams and some weak flailing. Peter's body got passed to larger arms which he subconsciously leaned into although still slightly struggling. They held him like that until he got too tired to keep on struggling.  
  


And that's when he noticed they were warm like Arthur. His body almost instantly shut his sleepless eyes. For someone who promised to never get close to someone again, Peter almost immediately passed out after that whole ordeal - which was well needed and probably the best sleep he had gotten in god knows how long. 

-

When Peter awoke, he found himself laying on the softest surface he thinks he's ever laid on. His body was no longer shivering and he finally felt, well, at home. But instead of those arms he was in earlier, he was curled up into a soft blanket. He groaned, alarmed at first as to where he was. Lights blinded his dulled eyes and brought a throbbing headache.  
  


"Ber he's awake."  
  


Two pairs of feet scampered over to Peter's side, a large hand on his head and a small one on the same thigh Arthur used to set his hand on every night in a way to comfort Peter into slumber. Peter calmed. A sigh escaped his lips and diminished into the air. Everything was about Arthur. Arthur Arthur Arthur. He hated that name now. He hated how his mind wouldn't let go of that love of it.  
  


"Honey what's your name?"  
  


A simple question. He could answer a simple question, right? "Pet-" he broke into a cough. Stupid throat, stupid tongue. It made Peter feel helpless which he hated. He was supposed to be better than anyone.   
  


Almost immediatly his lips were greeted with a cold glass, a clean fluid seeping into his mouth. Peter gulped down the liquid, it burning his throat at first and sizzled into a bliss he thought he'd never feel again. The glass was pulled away when it was sadly empty.   
  


"Let's try again. What's your name?" the voice was soft. Gentle. Warm.  
  


"Peter."  
  


"Peter." he repeated. The sickly blonde nodded. Who are these strangers?  
  


"You..?" Peter spoke, it barely above a whisper.  
  


"Tino. This is Berwald." he glanced toward the other guy with glasses. For now, since Berwald would not be remembered, he was Glasses Man and this Tino guy was Man-That-Had-The-Cup.  
  


Peter nodded but stayed quiet. His stomach painfully tightened and finally gurgled out a plead. Berwald stood and took a small item from the usually always empty pantry. He came back and undid its wrappings, taking off a piece and gently holding it out for Peter to take, which he gladly did and popped it into his mouth. He savored the taste, and let it sit in his mouth for a few seconds and prodded at it with his tongue before he finally swallowed it. He wanted more.  
  


"Peter honey, where's your parents?"  
  


Peter laid still, memories finally rushing in and welling up as tears, begging to be forgotten and released into an inevitable death. Peter shook his head, resulting in Tino and Berwald to steal a gaze from each other. Almost as if they were thinking of the same thing. Were they thinking the same thing? Berwald continued to break off pieces of the food and feeding it to Peter until it was gone. Little by little as to not startle his stomach although Peter had internal greed and rage that he couldn't just snatch it right there and shove it in his mouth.  
  


Peter laid down and shut his eyes, his stomach satisfied. The two older nations walked to what used to be Peters bedroom, and closed the door. Their hushed whispers echo'd along the hallway walls but were inaudible to Peters ears, much to his annoyance. But he ignored the lurching feeling in his gut and turned to his side, darkness consuming his mind once again, hence where his dream began.

_It was calm._

_The morning sun had long since turned to afternoon, streaming through the billowing curtain and painting lines of light onto the bedcovers beneath him. The summer breeze gusted through the open window, lightly buffeting the small toy model planes that hung on the ceiling. Cicadas replaced the birds dying out chirps._

_A thick hand sat upon his small, but when Peter looked up to the owner he was greeted with the blinding light. And suddenly he was in a field. He was running._

_Peter couldn't remember ever feeling this excited, this alive. Not since... he couldn't remember his name. But right now he didn't care._

_The cool air flowed fresh on the wind and in his lungs, the bright sun shone warm in the sky and on his face. Intense, almost painful excitement had bubbled up in Peters chest. He was going somewhere. He doesn't know where but somewhere. But even though this was new, even though he seemed to be leaving everything he had ever known, even though he did not know what to expect - Peter could not be afraid. Because he was going somewhere. He was going to his happiness, and his peace, and the place his heart had been leading him for years._

_If only if it had lasted._


	3. I'll Have To Get Used To This

As the days passed one by one, Peter came to learn more and more about Tino and Berwald; let alone get close to them. At first Peter was unsure, didn't trust them enough to call them anything other than their names or tell them he loved them. To him, they were still strangers invading his life. But then he soon realized how hard they try for him. They didn't get rid of him, they took care of him without showing any sign of getting rid of him and showed only kindness. He discovered his feelings one night when he accidentally called Berwald "Papa".  
  


Peter soon found himself looking up to them as parents, and slowly forgetting about Arthur. They laughed together, played together, and just like always, he greeted them home with a hug. It wasn't long before they became one family and relied on each other. At night when Tino and Berwald thought Peter was asleep, he always watched them dance together, smile, and share love filled kisses like there was nothing wrong in the world. It always left him falling asleep with nightmares diminishing into loving dreams about them as a family. Peter didn't think there was a more perfect couple in the world. Every once in a while his newly found parents would argue over silly things like which holiday is better or what things look like what, but in the end they would always agree both were just as good or bad and make up with a smile and a kiss. Peter loved them, and they loved him back.  
  


One day the two new parents took Peter to a large building with details of all shapes and sizes imprinted in its structure. Giant pillars supported the building, heavy doors lay waiting to be opened by a guest, good or bad. Tino's soft hand was wrapped around Peters tiny delicate fingers, and on the other side of him Berwalds calloused and rough hand lay the same around his. With a reassuring squeeze, Tino nodded to Berwald, a determined smile on their faces. Together they walked into a court room, never letting go of each other as if one another would float away out of reach. Just hours later, they walked out of the same doors that greeted them in, hands still clasped together. Peters eyes were outlined in a light red and his cheeks streaked with tears. Yet, a smile was painted onto his face with no sign of leaving. Nothing in the world could break them apart, so it seemed.  
  


The family went out for dinner afterward, something Peter has never done. Peters curious blue eyes wandered around the unfamiliar restaurant, taking in his surroundings and the smell that came with. Red covered the leather seats, men and woman dressed in the best of clothing. Steaming food passed their table continuously, ruined by the touch of greedy hands such as everything else in this world.  
  
  


"Peter?" a soft voice said.  
  
  


"Yeah?"  
  
  


His attention turned to a person who was dressed in formal attire stop by their table, leaning down and serving their orders so perfectly it seemed almost inhuman. Peter found himself smiling. He began to scarf down his food. Berwald had to touch his shoulder here and there to tell him to slow down, which he did, but not for long. Peter finished his food before anyone else did and sat back, a satisfying sigh slipping through his lips. Tino looked at Peter's plate, Berwald still focusing on his own.  
  
  


"Goodness you were hungry, weren't you?"  
  
  


"M-hm. I've never gone out before." blue eyes met blue eyes.  
  
  


Tino hid his saddened shock with a smile. "Glad we're the first."  
  
  


"Me too." he smiled. "I'm going to the restroom, be back, 'K?" he didn't wait for a confirmation as he slid under the table and crawled his way to the other side, getting up and running off. His knees were a spotted red after accidentally scraping them, but he didn't notice. Peter slowed to a normal walking pace, and entered the bathroom. It was mainly to wash his hands, since he hated the smell of food lingering on them. He wanted to stay clean now that he had parents. No need to embarrass yourself by smelling like food.  
  
  


He stood at the sink and ran his hands under the warm water, letting them sit there for a few seconds before he brought them up to the automatic soap dispenser. The soap was foamy and white, not the best at cleaning but it left him feeling better. It didn't smell as good as the soap back home but that was expected in a public area. Peter rubbed the liquid around his fingers before washing it off his gentle hands and turning off the sink. He took quick notice of a man in a suit, looking intimidatingly professional. Peter ignored him and dried his hands while the man repeated Peters steps.  
  
  


Chatter got louder and louder as he approached the busy room. Servers and Waitresses rushing back and forth, busy and tired. Hands hurting from the heavy plates, legs hurting from rushing.  
  
  


He slid back in his seat, and from there began a new light hearted conversation of some weird things, funny things, heart throbbing things. But in the end it all meant something and nothing else mattered.  
  
  


-  
  
  


The family went back to the lonely apartment Peter began to love more and more with each passing day. Once the door closed Tino sighed.  
  
  


"Ah I'm tired." his voice was sing-songy. Full of cheer yet sleeking with exhaustion. "Movie?"  
  
  


Berwald nodded in approval and Peter ran to the couch, flopping on its soft surface with a giggle. "I call middle!"  
  
  


Berwald sat to Peters left, and Tino to his right. "Horror movie?" Tino looked to the two boys, earning a daring stare from Berwald and frantic shake of Peters head. "Comedy it is." Tino sighed, disappointed. Berwald huffed in approval.  
  
  


Bad energy was terminated as the night went on. Laughter filled the room, and they all sat together as one complete family. And together they slept satisfied. Peter lay between his two newfound parents, cradled into slumber and protected against the world. This was one new step to a perfect story about a perfect family, or so Peter thought.


	4. Worth It

Peter sat in his bedroom at the old paint chipped door waiting for the Swede to get home. He let his curious eyes lay on the Finnish man sitting at the dining table. He had a shot glass resting in his soft hands, a palm pressed to his forehead and a sigh dragging his lips. Tino closed his eyes as he finally broke out into sobs. Peter slowly top toed up to Tino, and wrapped his weight around him.  
  
  


"Dad?"  
  
  


Tino wiped away his tears and choked back a whimper, attempting to stay strong. "Y-yes?"  
  
  


"I love you."  
  
  


Tino turned and lifted Peter into his lap, cradling him into a hug. "I love you too, Peter." he stopped to inhale a supporting breath. "Never forget that."  
  
  


"Papa will be back. He promised."  
  
  


Tino paused. "I know..."  
  
  
  


They sat in silence, Tino finally calming himself down and breathing lightly. Peter thought of things he does when he's upset so he could attempt to help the poor man.   
  
  
  


"Lets go to sleep and when we wake up he'll be there." Peter seemed unsure saying that and struggled with the painful memories of Arthur rushing in. Tino seemed to notice and stood, carrying the twelve-year-old with him to Tino's shared bed. Tino flopped back and closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his throat before holding his arms out for the child. Peter crawled over the tangle of sheets and snuggled into the warmth of his chest, his muscles relaxing and giving in to the care. The two bodies breaths were soft, they lay unmoving and undaring to ruin the sweet simple silence of dreams awaiting them. No matter how much Tino resisted, black overtook his conscious he he fell into a deep and well needed sleep.  
  
  


When Peter awoke just hours later, he reached over to where Tino once was, realizing how the warmth was gone and he was alone. Confused, Peter sat up in a daze and let his eyes adjust to the dim light breaking through the crack of their bedroom door. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, crouching down and sneaking to the base of the door. He peeked through the crack and spied on Tino and Berwald having another argument. It was serious this time, no silly arguing which frightened him.  
  
  


"You're always gone! I know you work hard for us because I can't find a job I like but now that we have Peter we need to put time in for him too! We can't let him ruin our relationship, I don't want our relationship to fall. I love you, Berwald. But god fucking dammit I miss you!"  
  
  


Tino grumbled in distressed and Berwald stayed quiet, resisting the urge to shout. Both soon fell quiet and stared daggers at each other until both bariers were broke down and the two wrapped their arms around each other.  
  
  


"M' sorry, m' love."  
  
  


Tino shook his head. "I'm sorry for yelling. You try hard." his shoulders slumped as he relaxed into Berwald's embrace. "I'll find somewhere soon. I promise."  
  
  


Peter leaned back against the wall and curled up, trying to make himself as small as possible. Was he a burden? Was he ruining the oh so perfect couple he cherished so much? So many questions ragged his mind that all he could do was sit and stare at the ground. But then his mind flipped to something else.   
  
  


Money.   
  
  


Something everyone wanted and would go so far for, yet was so scarce, so hard to get but needed the most. Something a lot of people were short on. Something that ruined people. It was so important, even to Peter who had no need for it. Peter needed to get it, but how? He was so young and jobs wouldn't take him.  
  
  


His head throbbed. He needed a break but he was stalling long enough. He needed to go but his body told him to just sit tight for a few more minutes. He needed to think.  
  


Footsteps approached his room.  
  


"Peter?"  
  
  


"Yeah?"  
  
  


"You okay sweety?"  
  
  


The door hushed open and there stood the two. "It went quiet."  
  
  


Peter looked up, "Are you guys okay?" his small voice asked, completely dismissing the question. It was genuine. That took the couple by surprise.  
  
  


A deep voice answered. "Wh'd'ya mean?"  
  
  


"You guys were mad." Peter paid attention to their eyes. Everything is in the eyes.  
  
  


"We're okay." Tino looked up to the Swede. "Let's get you cleaned up, you're probably hungry, right?" he looked back down to Peters small face, cheeks plump and eyes wise beyond his age.  
  
  


"I am. Can I go out to explore after, though?" Tino and Berwald exchanged worried glances.   
  
  


"I don't think-" Berwald set his hand on Tino's, looking him in the eye.  
  
  


"Let em' go. He's almos' been 'ere his whole life."  
  
  


Tino thought a moment, unsure and scared from the big city and dangerous people and streets. "I-" he started, but eventually realized he lost this fight. "...fine. But you make sure to scream and run if anything happens, okay?" Tino's voice was demanding, scared.  
  
  


Peter nodded and jumped off the bed, his feet pattering against the ground as he ran to the kitchen. "Can I help?" he shouted, crawling onto the counter and waiting for the two. Berwald followed Tino out of the room, going to the kitchen while Tino set up the table. Berwald mumbled a yes as he began sorting through cabinets for cooking materials.  
  
  


"What are you thinking of making?"  
  
  


"Karjalanpiirakka." Tino perked up and smiled at Berwald, Berwald returning it.  
  
  


"Karlanpakaka what now?" eyes pointed to him as Tino broke down into laughter and Berwald turned away, his body shaking slightly. Peter assumed he too is laughing, but Berwald was still mysterious to him. Peter hid his face from embarrassment, beginning to grow nervous from the laughter and his failed attempt at pronouncing something.  
  
  


The night went on and they all sat down, digging into the rice pie also known as Karjalanpiirakka. Peter was in a rush but was forced to slow down again, causing his impatience to go wild. It was only when he finished did he take his dishes and run them to the sink, continuing his rush.  
  
  
  


"Thank you! It was the best ever!" he yelled as he tapped on his shoes, racing out the door and down the flight of stairs to the entrance of the building. He had to find a way to help support his beloved parents, and fast. Peter ran from store to store, begging them to let him work but to no avail. He began walking between buildings in alleyways in search for anything that could help, ignoring the stares from the homeless against the walls. Peter stopped mid-step when a shadow enveloped his. He turned around, a dark haired man was looming over him. Peters fight or flight instinct kicked in but just as he situated his stance the accented figure spoke.   
  
  


"You're the kid running around in search for a job." Peter gulped and nodded, not daring to speak. "Good," the voice was scary. "I have one for you." Peter stared at him in suspicion. How did he know?  
  
  


"What is it and how much?" his voice was considerably less dark than his, of which was deeper and more dominating. The well built male squatted down to his level. He was muscular, had a scar here and there from street-fights and brown hair.  
  
  


"How about 1k for a delivery job." he offered. Peters eyes widened. He smiled and frantically nodded his head. Delivery? 1k? Too good to be true! It was perfect! ...How much was 1k anyways?  
  
  


"Good, you can start today. Follow me." Peter excitedly and absentmindedly followed the Italian accented man to a separate alleyway where he banged on an iron latch door. The ring echoed along the walls and Peter jumped back a little.  
  
  


"Scare you pipsqueak?" he laughed at himself, and Peter huffed. He hated that name.  
  
  


"I'm not a pipsqueak, stup-" he was cut off when the door cracked open.  
  
  


"Lovino? Whose the kid behind you?" the voice was higher but still accented.  
  
  


"New delivery boy since the last one-" he cut himself off and stole a glance at the boy. "...retired."  
  
  


The person behind the door nodded in understanding and stood to the side, opening the door just enough for the two to sneak inside. The brick room was large and dimly lit. There was a gang of about fifteen to twenty lounging around, all eyes pointed on him. There was one thing they all had in common, and that was bandanna's. Peter lowered his head just a bit, his mind screaming at him to run but he stayed there. He had to get the money and make his parents proud.  
  
  


"Everyone!" his voice was loud. "This is our new delivery boy." he stated proudly, and turned to Peter. "Tell them your name and age, delivery boy." it sounded more like a threat than a invitation.  
  
  


"P-Peter." he stuttered out. "I'm twelve." whispers were passed around the room.  
  
  


"SHUT IT!" his voice boomed, everyone stayed uptight and dead silent, including Peter. "So young and passionate. I like you already kid, you have a bright future." his voice was poisonous but he ignored it. Peter raised his head in praise. "Now, _Peter._ This is your new job! You see all those bandanna's on everyone? That's a symbol of your work. Everyone has to complete one job before you get one. Kind of like a test run, ya know? Gotta make sure you're fit for the job." Peter nodded in understanding before he bravely spoke up.  
  
  


"Question."  
  
  


"Go ahead."  
  
  


"What do the colors mean? I mean red, white and green."  
  
  


"Good question." he kneeled down in front of Peter. "Red means you go out and find people to see if they want to work for us, or give us answers to things. Sometimes to just see if they have a package for us, and that's what goes into white. You'll be getting a white one if you come back mission accomplished." he snapped his fingers. "That's for deliveries. Green means perimeter check. We don't want burgles getting in and ruining the business, right?" Peter nodded, determined to get his spot. They seemed so safe and secure. I mean come on, the even had guards! Peter turned to Italian by the door who had all three.  
  
  


"What does all three mean?"  
  
  


Lovino followed his gaze to the brunette by the door. "That's Veneziano, my brother. He gets all three because I trust him the most and he's good at all three. Call him Feli." Peter turned back to Lovino.  
  
  


"I assumed that big speech was a leader thing."  
  
  


"It is. I'm just better at speaking without cracking jokes and talking about food." it was definitely shade.  
  
  


"You'll work out just fine. Everyone has permission to speak now. Ask him questions all you want while I go fetch the package."  
  
  
  


Nobody did but Peter was kind of thankful for that fact.


	5. As A Family

In Peter's small hands lay a box. He was strictly told to not open it, ever. Which he didn't, because he was a trustworthy kid. The sun was beginning to set, an array of pinks, oranges, and yellows painted the sky and early stars dusted them like sparkles. The pink cotton candy clouds added to the scenery with grace. Peter enjoyed this walk, and barely anyone was out too. He was told by Lovino to deliver it to a house in south of Thames, which was a long ways away from where Peter lived. He was uneasy about it at first but Feli told him everything would be fine and even let him pet a cat! After some convincing and angry hissing from some of the members, Peter felt decently safe enough to let Lovino drive him down to the less-busied area, though every bit of his body was telling him not to.  
  
  


Peters black velcro shoes that once glistened in the fading light now were shadowed by an overhead tree as he stopped at a doorstep. The house's paint was chipped and showed a gray underneath, and gave the house an old and disturbing look. The windows were blacked out and unsettling. He knocked on the door and when it was opened he was greeted with a shotgun to the face. Peter held his breath and his eyes widened.  
  
  


"What the fuck you want, kid? I don't want your damn girl scout cookies now get out of 'ere."  
  
  


Peter looked up to the unshaven and messy haired male, and his eyes picked up an extremely thin and sickly female on the couch with some sort of fine powder on the old table in front of her. It was in a thin line, he turned away as her face dipped down.  
  
  


"U-uhm. Lovino. L-lovino said you wanted a package, I- I think I have the right place." Peter stuttered his sentence, heart racing. "Please don't shoot."  
  
  


The man set the gun against the door frame and roughly took the package from Peter, turning up his nose but his eyes gave a look up upset and...worry?  
  
  


The man turned his back and mumbled, "Why'd'fuck did the damn Italian bring a kid into this." before slamming the door behind him. Peter stood in awe at the door. At least the gun was gone.  
  
  


Peter grumbled and sneered at the door. That man was certainly all but kind. Peter trotted back to the car where he got in the passengers seat, Lovino speeding off before he had time to buckle.  
  
  


"That man was not at all kind." Peter pouted, his voice poised with anger.  
  
  


"He's a pretty roughed up guy, I wouldn't let it get to you. Just makes you more fucked in the head and I don't feel like ruining a kid."  
  
  


"I know."  
  
  


Silence filled the car, the engine roaring as Lovino sped down the road.  
  
  


"You're Italian."  
  
  


"I am."  
  
  


"The man said so, and also you have a funny accent. Well, not entirely funny. It's actually really cool and kinda cute."  
  
  


Lovino flushed in both confusion and embarrassment. "What? That came out of no where. And it's not _cute_ it's intimidating. I'm supposed to be intimidating, punk ass."  
  
  


"You were at first, you're not anymore. I like your brother, his cat is cute."  
  
  


"Jeez kid if you do this to everyone you might make more friends in a day than I do in a year, bastard."  
  
  


Peter smiled and completely ignored the bastard part. All anxiety from the gun at his face slipped from his mind, all the focus now set on the road. Lovino parked the car back in a public lot about ten minutes walking time away from their hiding spot, in this case, business building for Peter. They walked back side by side, Lovino carefully looking around him. Once Lovino banged on the door, the same taller brunette answering, Peter was sat on a chair. Everyone gathered around, Feli behind him and Lovino in front of him.  
  
  


"You successfully delivered your first package without any trouble. Raise you hand like this." he motioned his hand up like if you were to make a pledge. Peter followed. "Repeat after me." he readied himself. "I swear that no information about this secret...agency, is ever repeated to anyone outside of this room," Peter repeated, his head raised high. "or I will be fired." his tone was cold and unsettling at that last minute. Peter assumed that's what he meant about how he wanted to be intimidating.   
  
  


Once Peter repeated Lovino word for word, a bandanna was awarded to him around his neck. Peter beamed, looking up to the Italian and not stopping to wrap himself around his waist. Lovino stood paralyzed and tense, desperately looked up to Veneziano pleading for help. Earning a 'Come on it's just a hug and he's a kid, probably going to die anyway.' nod. Lovino awkwardly patted the boys back.  
  
  


"You should get home to your family." he was desperate to tear Peter off of him.  
  
  


"Oh, right! They're probably worried. Thank you so much Lovi, Feli, everyone else I know nothing about."  
  
  


"Lovi? I-...okay yeah whatever, here's the money pipsqueak." Lovino held the money and Peter snatched it excitedly, neatly folding it and fitting it into his pocket. Feli laughed and showed Peter out the door.  
  
  


"You did good today, Peter. Don't slip up about us, okay?" his voice was cheery. Peter nodded and Veneziano ruffled his hair. "You can pet the kitty tomorrow. Be here any time!"  
  
  


"Okay, thank you!" Peter quickly hugged him and ran off to the apartments, his smile never fading. He ripped the bandanna off his neck and cradled it in his palm. He did good, this is good.  
  
  


-  
  
  


Once back home, Peter slipped off his shoes and ran to his room, quickly hiding both the money and bandanna under his pillow. He got changed into new clothes just in case anyone asked why he ran so fast without announcing his arrival. A quick lie about "oh I fell" wouldn't be too bad, yeah?  
  
  


"I'm home!" Peter shouted and walked out of his room. He noticed quiet music playing in his parents room and approached their door. He peeked an eye through the crack and saw Tino leaning on Berwald, their hands placed on each other and eyes closed. They just swayed ryhmically and it was mesmerizing. He watched them whisper something to each other, and then break apart and turn off the small radio of which the sound was emitting from. Peter pattered his way to the couch and flopped down on it, grabbing the remote and wrapping himself in a blanket so only his face was peaking out.  
  
  


Tino and Berwald entered the room. He noticed they both looked happy, relaxed as if everything in life was perfect. Their energy influenced Peter so he too, was calmed.  
  
  


"What were you doing, silly? Want to tell us about your adventure?"  
  
  


Peter so desperately wanted to tell them about his job, but he knew he couldn't. Oh, but it was so intimidating.   
  
  


"I explored the streets and found a cat! It meowed at me and I got to pet it but someone scared it away and I got mad." Peter wasn't really lying about that part, so not much guilt there.  
  
  


"Sounds like fun!"  
  
  


"Yeah, and I'm going to go out tomorrow too because I wanna see if the cat is still there."  
  
  


  
"Alright." he warmly smiled down at the boy, and then glanced over to the T.V. "Ber, Peter, want to sit down and watch a show together?" Berwald nodded and Peter moved over for them. This time Tino and Berwald sat together and Peter was next to Berwald, leaning his weight on his side whilst an arm was wrapped around the smaller boys shoulders.  
  
  


"Hey, guys?" Peter's voice was small against the honking and shushing of cars past the windows of the living room.  
  
  


"Mm?"  
  
  


"Yes?" the two answered in unison. Everything they do seems in unison, Peter thought.  
  
  


"I really love you, even if you argue sometimes. You don't need to watch me all the time. I'm okay and I will stay safe for you."  
  
  


They stayed quiet, smiles playing their faces. Berwald pulled Peter in closer and kissed the top of his head, much to Peters delight. The screen of the TV illuminated the three's faces, darkness adding shadows and outlining every feature. Peter looked to the side, his eyes turning to the city lights greeting him from outside the window like stars. His head broke away from the sight to his two parents. They were immersed in the movie, though their bodies were still pressed together. Berwalds scarred, calloused hands entwined with warm, soft fingers.   
  
  


His family was perfect.  
  
  


But the movie came to an end like most things. And so later that night, Tino and Berwald had tucked Peter in.  
  
  


"G'night, son."  
  
  


"Night, Peter."  
  
  


"G'night. I love you. See you tomorrow." Déjà vu struck Peter hard, but he didn't exactly remember when.  
  
  


"See you tomorrow." a kiss was laid on his head before his room was emptied. The swish of cars echo'd through his window and whispered into the dark of his room.  
  
  


Peter lay awake until he was sure his parents were asleep. He snatched the wad of money from under his pillow and slowly got up, tiptoeing his way to his fathers suitcase. He unclipped it and slid the money into a random pocket, closing it, and hastily making his way back to his bedroom. Peter cracked the door and hopped into his bed, heart racing and chest tightening. This was his secret, nobody could know. The boy closed his eyes and sighed a great breath, his body relaxing and laying limp under the moons light shining on his milky skin and silky blonde hair.  
  
  


The city lay asleep under the moons gaze, no stars complimenting the sickly sky. But that's just how the sky was above a poisonous city. Sickly.


	6. Unsettling

The next morning Peter awoke bright and early. The sun was barely peeking through the city, which Peter didn't mind. Just meant that he didn't have to worry about being shoved around on the streets between tired people in gray and black attire. Peter eagerly, yet silently, got ready for the day. Taking a long shower, letting warm water he never knew he could love so much run off his pale skin. He got dressed in his usual attire; a little sailor outfit with his signature black shoes. Little soles tapped back to his room and to the chair completing the set with his desk. Sliding into the smooth surface, he began to write a small note to Tino and Berwald. And he was so confident too.  
  
  


Completing this task, he snatched bandanna and got up, sneaking down the hallway where he set the paper on the counter and abandoned the apartment. Jogging down the stairs and out of the complex, he took in the rush of air whispering in his hair and running along his locks of hair. Peter rushed between the legs of business people, apologizing as each one stared bewilderedly after him. They all looked rather important. Like they had something urgent to do and somewhere important to be. But he felt as if he belonged there because he too had somewhere important to be.  
  
  


Step by step Peters legs led him to the familiar iron door, and repeating Lovino, curled his fingers into a fist and slammed on the door with all his strength resulting in a loud echo'd bang. The door was thrust open but before Peter could state who he was, he was shoved against the wall. Cold metal was pressed to his skin for just a shockingly short frightening moment before he was released.  
  
  


"Sorry Peter, reflexes kicked in." the bright eyed Italian stepped back and clapped Peter on the back.  
  
  


Peter lurched forward from the sudden weight and awkwardly smiled, mostly to hide the fact he was terrified. "I-it's okay. No worries. Can...can I come inside?" his voice was small compared to the cities blaring streets ringing through his ears.  
  
  


"I don't know, can you?" Veneziano joked, a signature smile being extremely misplaced giving the situation.  
  
  


"Yes, yes I can." Peter snapped in annoyance before pulling the door open and inviting himself inside, much to Veneziano's surprise. Arthur gave him enough shit with that joke.  
  
  


The amber eyed Italian followed Peter inside. Very few people were present this time. One, a very muscular and well fit woman, and three men. One looked to be the youngest of the three, only being a thin teenager with sunken eyes. Peter glanced around the room in search for Lovino, but unable to find him, Peter sat himself next to the door with the only other person he knew.  
  
  


"Lovino will be here soon. He's firing someone due to trying to decimate his trust."  
  
  


"What's decimate?" Peter questioned. He had yet to go to school and learn that.  
  
  


"Ruin." Veneziano replied, almost like he was expecting that question.  
  
  


"I'm going to use that now. And when I go to school, I'll get so many friends for being smart."  
  
  


Veneziano chuckled to himself at the child's dream. He thought back to when he used to babble like that with his grandfather. He smiled at the memory, yet it was soon interrupted when a knock at the door rang through the almost emptied building. Veneziano opened it, knife ready and came face to face with a bloodied Lovino.  
  
  


"Welcome back Fratello!" the blood seemed to be normal, like he saw it everyday.  
  
  


"Shut up and let me in."  
  
  


His aggression led Veneziano to open the door wide, allowing the older brother in. Peter thought of telling him not to be rude but decided against it when he saw the blood streaking Lovino's sweat beaded face. Lovino walked over to a couch and plopped down, growling a little to himself deep in thought. Peters stomach twisted, a dreaded feeling weighing on his shoulders that told him he should leave. Yet, his eyes stayed focus, his mind sharp on the Italian in front of him. His chest was bare and slick with sweat, forming bruises scattered his sides here and there. It looked like he got into a fight, which Peter has never once witnessed. Peter resisted a jump as Lovino shot up, a smile playing his face and crazed eyes darting toward him.  
  
  


"I've got it."  
  
  


"Got what?" Peter voice threatened to tremble. Veneziano stared at his brother, Lovino inching toward the blonde boy, unfased, analyzing.  
  
  


"Peter, new job today. You're going to be going somewhere to take something."  
  
  


"Take what?"  
  
  


"A life."

\---

Sorry for the short chapter. I've just had point 0 motivation <3


	7. Worried Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter!

_Deer mama and papa,_

_I am going to be outside playeeng with the kitty I saw. I will be home, do not wury for me! Be home soon! I luhv you!_

_-Peter not Kirkland. How to spel yor last nam?  
  
  
  
_

The writing was honestly sort of repulsive, Berwalds eyebrows scrunched together as if it would help him focus. It was obviously written by Peter; he knew that much. Speaking of which, he should start putting the kid in school. At his age he should know how to write such basic words but considering his situation it didn't come to a surprise - which gave him some lax to the writing within the thin page between Berwalds caloused hands. Berwald set the paper down and looked in the direction of the door at Tino, his frame slowly rising and slowing as soft breaths pass between soft lips.   
  
  


Berwald rubbed his temples and sighed, ice like eyes staring toward the dark abyss of the room, deciding if he should wake Tino or leave him be. Giving a few seconds of thought, he finally turned away from the door and walked toward the case on the counter, lifting it and setting the heavy thick casing onto the counter and opening it; a thump following after. Berwald took notice of money he didn't remember leaving the night before, and picked it up in confusion, examining it. Assuming he was tired and forgot, he set it back into the case and shut it, thinking nothing of it and simply dismissing it as nothing important.  
  
  


The blonde left to wake Tino, although he was hesitant at first, he gently kissed the others forehead and held his hand.  
  
  
  
"'oney, wake up." his voice was gentle and sugar-sweet, nothing foreign to two of them. Tino mumbled and rolled to his side, a sigh passing his lips. Berwald tried again, for he has done this many times before.   
  
  
  
" 's Chris'mas." and that was what always got him awake. Tino flinched awake, eyelids snapping open and body jolting upward into a sitting position.  
  
  
  
"Already!?" his voice was laced with panic, but also tinted with excitement. Not an ounce of drowsiness resided in the word.  
  
  
  
"No." the answer was simple and disappointing. Monotone and sort of depressing to say the least.  
  
  
  
Tino looked around and rubbed his eyes, turning his head to his husband in disappointment. "You do this almost every morning." he complained, to which Berwald replied, "Bu'it works al'mos every morning."  
  
  
  
Tino heaved a sigh and stretched, joints making a satisfied pop. Tino swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll look for somewhere to work today." all excitement had left and his voice began to roughen, grogginess taking its place. It was a large change from when he woke up, Berwald noticed. And although it was a hurtful fact; it was the truth. And not everything can last forever.  
  
  


Tino stood and leaned himself against Berwald, wrapping his arms around the others waist which Berwald gladly returned.  
  
  
  
"Mm." Berwald thought about the original purpose of waking the Finn. "Peter's out. Left a le'er." Berwald spoke, kissing the top of Tino's head.  
  
  
  
Tino fixated his eyes onto Berwald's features. "Thanks for letting me know, darling." he smiled and pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes, connecting his lips with Berwald's into a sweet bliss that neither of them wanted to end even after so long of soft kisses and sweet nothings.   
  
  


They meant everything to each other. The only thing getting each other through these rough years.   
  
  


Berwald bright, precious Tino.   
  
  


And Tino's timeless Berwald.   
  
  


But alas they they parted just moments after, going their own ways per usual. Tino getting ready for the day, Berwald grabbing a few last things and kissing Tino goodbye. The day had began for the two, Berwald left for more continuous, tiring work while Tino lazily trudged into the kitchen and ground up coffee beans, filling a kettle with water.  
  
  
  
Placing the kettle on the stove, he then sat at the clean glass table right beside the counter, pulling over the thin laptop and lifting its thin screen. He pressed the power button, the screen brightening yet making no difference in the suns glare peaking through the window on the farthest wall. Tino heaved a sigh and focussed on his mission, the smell of coffee soon filling the room which already had him hold back on downing the whole thing right away.  
  
  


The smell was always relaxing - and he couldn't help but think about Berwald. Their days used to be so simple; getting to see the sun peek through the curtains and coffee fill the air. Having more time to go out on small alone dates and give each other surprise gifts. It was a perfect dream that the two of them weren't expecting to have got drowned out by tired work and now, a kid. Life really gave unexpected things but in the end Tino doesn't regret a single thing.  
  
  


The whistle startled him out of his thoughts and he pushed the chair back and made his way back to the stove. Pouring it into a mug, he traced his steps back to the old yet new looking chair and sat in it once again, scrolling through the internet on information in the area online. Speaking of, could they even afford an extra phone at all for Peter? It was innevitable that a kid his age wouldn't get into some soft of trouble. But Peter was a good kid, didn't cause too much trouble. Always very helpful and up on his feet in a flash when it came to helping.  
  
  


Although he did have a small feeling deep inside of him that Peter was into trouble, Tino was too focused to really pay any mind.  
  
  


  
-

  
  
  
Peter had stood outside the heavy metal door, his arms sat by his side, unwilling to move an inch to the doors surface. Peter was scared to go inside and start a new day. He didn't want to hurt anybody, nobody deserved to get harmed at his hands. He started to regret his decision of coming today, but what if he didn't come? What would happen to him and his family? Peter nervously paced, ignoring the glances from rushed citizens on the streets and skittering of rats against the walls, trying to make a living in the dangerous city. That's what this city was. Dangerous, stinky and horrible.  
  
  
  
Peter stomped on the ground in frustration and then banged on the heavy iron door, ignoring the echo stop a few people on the sidewalk. As usual, the cheery Italian opened the door just a crack, pinned Peter to the wall, apologized, and then took him inside with a few glances.  
  
  
  
"That's some strength you had in you today Peter." Veneziano chirped. Why was he always so happy anyways?  
  
  
  
"Yeah, it was." the answer was short. Different from any other day, Veneziano noted. "Where's Lovino? I want to speak to him." Peter asked bravely, not showing any fear for it was masked by anger.  
  
  
  
Veneziano thought for a moment, and then pulled a chair beside the door for Peter. "Why don't you pass it by me first. Chat with me for a little and then when Lovino comes you can talk to him, si?"  
  
  
  
That didn't sound too bad, really. Especially the way he said it. Man he was good with kids...oddly.  
  
  


"Fine." he stated, slumping into his chair and crossing his arms. "I don't know what he meant but to me it sounded like Lovino really wanted me to hurt someone which I'm not doing no matter what he says." and he was proud to say it.  
  
  
  
Veneziano rested a palm on the boys shoulder and heaved out a sigh. "I think he was just upset. I'll talk with him today and see what we can do." the Italian compromised, looking at the blondes ocean blue eyes which didn't make Peter as nervous as he thought it would.  
  
  
  
"Yeah I guess...thank you, that makes me feel better."  
  
  
  
"Of course." Veneziano didn't actually know what to do, really. He knew once his brother made his mind set he wasn't going to change it. He didn't even want the kid to be brought into this side of the city. It was dangerous, his brother was being irrational with his decision but Veneziano didn't know how to lay the kid off without getting shit from the both of them. His brother got angry enough when Veneziano took over and laid off the strong cute German he oh so loved. "He was fully capable," his brother said, "strong and willing. I don't care if you wanted to protect him."  
  
  


They had sat in silence for a few minutes, their small breaths were masked by the buzzing of bugs in the heavy summer heat. It was just the two, the other usual druggies and gang members were no where in the area.  
  
  


"Hey, I have some extra cash if you want it. I know you haven't worked yet but I have no use for it."  
  
  


Peter looked up to him in astonishment. "Really!?" he shouted in excitement.  
  
  


"Yeah," the hazel eyed man confirmed, digging through his coat pocket and pulling out a wad of bills. He handed the money to Peter, who greedily took it. It was a blind attempt to try and lighten the mood.  
  
  


"How much?"  
  
  


"I honestly don't know. You can count it later."  
  
  


"Thank you so much Feli! Really thank you thank you thank you! You're the best!" Peter exclaimed, shoving the bills into his pocket.  
  
  


A loud bang shook the door and frightened Peter, ruining the perfect moment quicker than it started. Veneziano opened it to his brother shoving passed him, the door shutting behind him. Lovino looked to Peter, paused, and patted the boy on his shoulder.  
  
  


"Good, good! You're here!" Lovino looked to his brother, "Has he caused any trouble?"  
  
  


"None at all. But I'd like to talk to you." Lovino eyed Veneziano suspiciously. "Well, what is it Feli?"  
  
  


Veneziano looked to Peter for just a moment before looking to his brothers chocolate eyes. "Peter has concerns about yesterday."  
  
  


Lovino chuckled and crossed his arms, "What about it?"  
  
  


"He doesn't want to hurt nor kill anyone." Veneziano argued.  
  
  


"His fault. He agreed to join, he has to do what I say." Lovino inconsiderately stated.  
  
  


"He's twelve!" Veneziano spat, defending Peter. This wasn't like him, so Peter began to panic.  
  
  


Lovino bellowed out a deep chuckle, "And? You know what me and you went through at that age and look at us! We're fully capable and strong and-"  
  
  


"Hiding from the government, selling drugs and killing people?" Veneziano finished. Peter sat in the chair awkwardly, just wanting to run home to his parents. His trust for the two Italians was diminishing, being replaced by aching fear and a pounding adrenaline.  
  
  


"I want to go home..." Peter mumbled, inching his way off the chair. The two Italians looked to him, causing Peter to immediately flee. Lovino lunged to the door, blocking it from Peter.  
  
  


"You can't leave. I know your little mouth will tell someone and get us in big big trouble and you don't want that kid, do you?" Lovino hissed, alarmed. Peter took a quick intake of air and did a one-eighty, pushing himself off his heels and breaking into a sprint to the door across the small empty room. Peter had never been in there, but had only seen some dude named Kevin go there once in a while. Lovino shoved a startled Veneziano toward the child, him now chasing after Peter. He didn't want to, but he knew he'd get in trouble and he didn't want to sacrifice his brother.  
  
  


Lovino lunged at Peter, grabbing onto his ankles and tumbling Peter down. Lovino, in a rage, turned the boy flat on his back and pinned his legs underneath him using his own to stop Peter from struggling.  
  
  


Everything felt so slow, slow familiar, so scary.  
  
  


Darkness tickled at the edges of Peters vision. Hot fingers pressed into the sides of his throat and a sweaty palm squished the pliable elastic of his windpipe closed.  
  
  


"Stop!" Peter tried, but only spit and a squeak came out.  
  
  


"Don't speak, make this quick."  
  
  


Peter glanced around the room in a sad attempt to find something, anything to reach out to. His vision shifted in and out of focus, and everything was closing in on him. Peter groaned and barely, just barely caught the shadowed outline of a lamp. He reached for it, trembling fingers reaching out to the metal and grazing its sides before a final and tight grasp was made. Peter swung it around and hit the weight holding Peter down on the head. Peter rolled away from the hissing voice and stumbled over to the nearest door. Behind him he heard distant yelling of Veneziano, not at him but instead his brother. It sounded angry and alarmed.  
  
  


Peter's head throbbed in a pleading break, his legs limping into an escape, and his heart on the verge of an attack. He slid into a bathroom, the door slamming and locking just fast enough that whoever was on the other side's attempt at the knob amounted only to a violent, frustrated rattle. Peter looked around in a frenzy, and found an old broken flip phone on the ground. He knew how to use one of these! His father showed him once! Peter struggled with his trembling hand that didn't seem to be his own. He watched the foreign limb clumsily betraying him, missing the buttons and nearly losing the phone completely. It seemed an irrational and panicked thing, incapable and helpless even as his brain screamed at him to focus.  
  
  


He heard a few "Ow!"'s and "Romano stop!"'s, but he didn't pay any mind.  
  
  
  


"Open the door, Peter!" Lovino shook the doorknob. "What do you think you're going to do? I'm not going anywhere."  
  
  


Peter heard a small voice from the phone he hadn't yet put to his ear. The screen showed a connection to 911. Peter heard the insistent operator still chiming from the other end of the line, reaching for someone, refusing to disconnect. Then, it went quiet. The two Italian brothers had stopped yelling. Peter stood still, paralyzed in the silence. It was almost worse. Peter's eyes rebounded around the drab bathroom, to the chipped paint, the floor laminate curling up at the corners. There was no way to barricade the door, no way to escape, and nothing to defend himself.  
  
  


A massive thud shook the door. Peter jumped back to the corner by the sink. Another crash and the door shivered. They were breaking in.  
  
  


"You don't want to make me do this, Peter." Lovino's voice shook from the other side.  
  
  


"Leave me alone!" he whimpered, bruises forming on his neck.  
  
  


The door shook from another blow, the wood cracking and surrendering in its weight.  
  
  


"Hello?" the phone whispered out. Another crunch and splintering wood. It seemed as though they were going to be too late. Something seemed so familiar, like he'd gone through this before; Peter thought. But he couldn't place it. This hadn't happened before - or so he believed. He would have remembered if it did, right?  
  
  


"Lovino stop! He's twelve, you don't have to do this!" the high pitched screams of Veneziano beat through the door. "You're letting your anger out again! Stop, we can talk about it and make him so he doesn't say a word or- or we can leave with Ludwig!"  
  
  


"Fuck Ludwig! I've never liked him! He refused to work with us and fucking left!"  
  
  


"He left because of you! You forced me into this, you told me this would go smoothly and that we wouldn't hurt anyone! You told me that if we made and sold the drugs in secret that we could get enough money so we could get a house and live normal lives! You lied!"  
  
  


Peter tried to ignore the argument and whisper his location into the phone. It was hard since he couldn't read very well so he didn't mind street names. But he described the building in full detail.  
  
  


"I lied to help you! We have so much money now and everything is fine!"  
  
  


"No it's not! You lied and now you're trying to kill a kid! You've killed enough people already." Tears began to form into the brunettes eyes. "Let's just lay low...please. Lay low. I'm tired of surendering to everyone. To you." the voice turned into a whisper, followed by a frustrated grunt and another wracking of the door. Not to break in, but to punch through it in a fury.  
  
  


"Fine. But we have to make the kid stay quiet." Lovino hissed before he reached into his pocket where he kept his phone and some extra cash in, but to his concern only the cash was there. "Shit where's my phone?" Lovino asked, his tone not changing from before.  
  
  


"Maybe you dropped it when you tackled the kid?" Veneziano answered back, his tone sassy and definitely giving shade. He looked to the floor. No phone, only a broken lamp.  
  
  


Lovino thought hard, and then slowly turned his head to the door. "It's in there..." he whispered, "It's in there! Fucking fuck! I musta dropped it while trying to gather my shit and go kill a bitch!" Lovino shouted frantically, and began to ram into the door again, only to be stopped by a sudden bang on the large metal door to their left. The room went silent until the metal door shuddered again.  
  
  


"Open the door!" a small voice shouted through the heavy walls of the dirty and abandoned building.  
  
  


"Either that's the police or Romeo, because they both sound the same." Veneziano said as he turned to Lovino.  
  
  


"It's the police you dumb fuck he literally has my phone."  
  
  


"Makes sense."  
  
  


"And Romeo comes on Tuesdays."  
  
  


"Right, forgot."  
  
  


"Of course you did."  
  
  


The door shook once more and before it began creaking from the force of a crowbar. They were prying the door open.  
  
  


"The damn kid! He tattled!"  
  
  


"Forget him! Let's go with Ludwig and hide out until we can go undercover and get us a place."  
  
  


"I really don't want to but fine! How are we going to get to Germany?"  
  
  


"I have an idea." Veneziano pulled Lovino to a back room and closed the door, flicking on a light. Just as he closed the door, the metal frame creaked and bent as the iron door was forced open. Clicking heels could be heard, a flood of officers and military agents burst in. "This is the police! Come out with your hands behind your head!"  
  
  


Lovino looked to Veneziano, his facial expression one of panic and impatience. Veneziano looked to a vent on the ceiling and pulled over a chair, standing on it and shifting it to the side as silently as he could. He lifted himself up and held out a hand for Lovino. Thank god for all that training Ludwig forced him through.  
  
  


"Make sure to kick the chair so they don't know where we're hiding." Veneziano whispered, earning a nod from Lovino. He then stood on the chair and took Veneziano's hand, boosting himself up with the help of his brother but not before ramming his heel into the side of the chair as hard as he could, causing it to slam against the wall and tumble onto its side. Lovino closed the vent after, and both stayed quiet, using their shirts as a filter from the collected dust in the dark space.  
  
  


The many voices of officers echoed through the small space. The door underneath them was rammed open, an officer with a gun at ready. Only then did the female lower the gun, and look around. She curiously looked under shelves and behind them, just to be disappointed and leave, obviously puzzled around the whole situation.  
  
  


-  
  
  


Peter held his hands over his head, and backed away as he heard the door open. The cops were here, he knew. But what if Lovino came to hurt him again before the police could get him in trouble?  
  
  


"Hey kid, don't be scared, you're alright." a deep voice said in pity. Peter didn't know it and cautiously opened his eyes, looking up curiously. His heart was still racing and his muscles were tense, which seemed to relax just a bit at seeing an officer - but not completely. "We're going to get you some medical help alright? Can you stand?"  
  
  


Peter nodded and inched toward the officer, finally standing. His chest hurt a lot; he examined. Maybe the kind officer could tell him why it hurt. The officer held out his hand for Peter, which he took and was being led out to the rest of the squad.  
  
  


"Found the kid. He's all beat up, can we get him checked out?"  
  
  


"Already on it." another voice replied. Peter waited a few seconds before two professionals took hold of Peter and laid him down on a stretcher, carrying him out. This reminded him of those action movies Tino and Berwald tried not to have him watch.  
  
  


"Where am I going?" Peter asked, his voice breaking in fear.  
  
  


"We're going to make sure you're okay at the hospital, alright?" aman said as the two slid the stretcher into the back of the emergency vehicle.  
  
  


"Can you tell me what hurts?" a kind woman asked as the ambulance shifted and began to move. Everything was happening so quickly, it was frightening and confusing.  
  
  


"My neck and my chest." he answered. The woman nodded, already aware of the bruising on his neck.  
  
  


"Can you tell me where your parents are so we can contact them?"  
  
  


"Apartment B, sixth floor, door 23." he answered back precisely. Arthur had taught him that a while back when he was younger, also boredom hit one day along with all those days alone. There wasn't a single reason not to remember, which he just now realized.  
  
  


The lady repeated Peter's words into a walkie talkie, and mumbled words answered back. Peter eyed the two suspiciously and then looked around, his fingers balling around the sheet he was laying on.  
  
  


"Hey, uhm. Will I get in trouble?" Peter mumbled, frightened and guilty. Would they find the money that lay in his pocket? Oh god he forgot about the money.  
  
  


"I don't know, love."  
  
  


That didn't satisfy Peter, but he lay quiet anyways. Peter didn't know how long the ride was, but it felt slow and scary for him. Everything felt slow and fast at the same time. He knew he was being brought to a hospital but what would his parents think? He didn't listen to them and stay safe. He partly lied to them. They would be so upset. His mind rambled on with worry and about Lovino and Veneziano. He hoped that Veneziano got away safely, but not Lovino. Peter hated Lovino with every part of his being. But Veneziano showed him kindness and he was always so happy.  
  
  


He was unloaded and brought into a large building with many vehicles around it. Peter looked side to side, and tried to sit up once but was gently pushed back down. He went through checkups, needles, doctors and eventually they found out that Peter had broke a rib when he fell on the hard floor from Lovino. Cold compression's were being added to his chest, and he was given medicine and breathing exercises. It was all so strange and painful. Peter began to weep at one point because of a needle, and then began to cry harder because he wanted Berwald and Tino. Doctors constantly repeated that it would be okay but Peter felt like it wouldn't be. Especially with the needle in his arm. It hurt.  
  
  


An hour passed before Berwald and Tino had rushed to his side, Tino's eyes filled with tears. The couple began to ask all sorts of questions, of which the kind lady had to cut them short.  
  
  


"He has a few bruised ribs - one being broken - and abuse to his neck. You'll have to give him rest and let him heal from the trauma. Other than that there are no other serious injuries."  
  
  


Tino wracked out a few sobs and nodded as Berwald wrapped his arms around the smaller body, great worry of his own filling up.   
  
  


"What happened?" Tino managed to whimper out. God he hated how his voice cracked. He wasn't weak.  
  
  


"We have yet to find out from the officers that were at the scene, but when we get the information I will immediately let you know." a doctor responded, had repeated this line for the years they worked in the depressing building.  
  
  


Berwald and Tino nodded and thanked the doctor before he left to give the family some personal space. Tino dried his reddened eyes and looked to Peter.  
  
  


"Honey, can you tell us anything about what happened?"  
  
  


Peter hesitated and laid quiet, curling up his tiny hands around the hospital gown given to him. "You wont get mad at me?" Peter whispered.  
  
  


Berwald and Tino glanced at each other and pulled chairs to the bedside, sitting down as if they already knew it was going to be a long story.  
  
  


"No...?" Tino responded, which Peter let out a sigh of breath. They both seemed unsatisfied with the answer.  
  
  


"Well I was walking around trying to find money for you and papa because I saw you fighting...and...and then someone came up to me and asked if I was looking for a job I said 'yes' and so he said I could be a mailman. Of course I took it but the building he took to me looked really old, which I didn't care at first. He drove me places to deliver things, and one guy was really rude." Peter huffed at the memory, "Then I got some money and put it in papa's suitcase. Skipping some parts, the scary guy who gave me the job said I had to hurt someone for him but I didn't want to so he got mad and hurt his brother and me. I was super scared and his brother tried to stop him but he didn't and-..and then I found out I was delivering drugs to people and the brothers killed people but it was all the scary mans fault! And his brother loves someone..."   
  
  


Peter didn't even realize hot tears were streaming down his face. He looked to his parents shocked and intrigued faces.  
  
  


"'N what were th'r names?"  
  
  


"I don't want to tell you..."  
  
  


"Hon, you have to."  
  
  


"But they'll get in trouble!" Peter whined.  
  
  


"They won't, it's okay." Tino lied. Berwald glanced at his husband and turned back to Peter, not wanting to interfere with the lie.  
  
  


"Okay..." Peter nervously looked down, "Lovino. Or Romano."  
  
  


"Italian?" Tino asked himself.  
  
  


"Yeah. Had the Mario accents."  
  
  


"'N who 's who?"  
  
  


"Romano is a nickname that his brother used for him. His real name is Lovino."  
  
  


"And his brother?" Tino interfered.  
  
  


"I can't tell you that."  
  
  


"Peter...come on. You-"  
  
  


"No!" Peter shouted, interrupting his father. Tino stared at him in shock but didn't dare to press it further. "I like him. I'm not letting anyone have his or his crush have their names."  
  
  


"H'd'you know it's Lovino's brothers 'crush'?"  
  
  


"Because...just because. I can tell."  
  
  


"Hon-"  
  
  


"He always smiled just a little and his eyes were always remembering." Peter interrupted and paused, looking to the both of his parents. "Like you guys. That's how I know."  
  
  


Berwald and Tino looked to each other for just a moment before breaking their gaze apart and looking back to the twelve year old. Neither of the two had any idea on what to say - especially since this kid was literally twelve.  
  
  


"I'm tired." Peter finally said with a small yawn. He didn't want to say anything more about Lovino and Veneziano and this Ludwig guy. He just wanted sleep.  
  
  


Berwald turned to Tino both stood and took turns kissing Peters forehead and wishing him a good nights rest which was understood perfectly by the two of them. Tino and Berwald sat in that room, throughts running through their heads from this whole situation. Some whispers were shared as both left and silently closed the door, leaving Peter alone after they were sure he was asleep. A tired looking doctor walked up to the couple, which they later recognized as the same doctor that met them in the room.  
  
  


"We have all the information on what happened plus evidence."  
  
  


Berwald and Tino shared a glance, and then looked to Peter's door.  
  
  


"Names?" Tino asked.  
  
  


"No, but we caught someone named Kevin trying to get in when we had an undercover cop stay. He should know."  
  
  


"Alright. Thank you."  
  
  


"Of course. We'll take good care of Peter. You guys should get rest."  
  
  


"We'll try." Tino replied, and began to walk away with Berwalds hand in his.  
  
  


Based on the rushed way Tino was walking, Berwald knew they were going to dig into this case too.


End file.
